


The Tea Party

by Dardrea



Series: Fluffy Hiatus Sunday Ficlets [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hiatus Sunday Fluff 2014 - 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dardrea/pseuds/Dardrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Week 5 of the Hiatus Sunday Fluff. Belle's looking for Rumpel in the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tea Party

Belle was worried.

She’d seen Rumpel come into the library almost a solid hour earlier but Mary Margaret was leading a children’s day in celebration of the library’s reopening and the fact that most of the children of Storybrooke had never been in a library before, and she’d been too busy to greet him.

There was food in the tiled area by the front door and games and crafts and readings set up throughout the building and Belle was delighted to share her love of books with the younger generation of the cursed town. Although the children had spent almost thirty years in each of their respective ages and grades most of them had been peasants in their former lives, with little time or access to books, and it hadn’t been that much better here with the library closed for all that time.

If they ever did find a way to return the townspeople permanently to the Enchanted Forest she was determined to make the best of the intervening time _here_. The children would not return ignorant of the worlds that could be found in the pages of her books. They would know what treasures the written words guarded and they would be confident of their own abilities to pry those treasures loose.

And it was usually around that point in her speech that she’d notice the amused gleam in Rumpel’s eye and recognize that she was perhaps becoming a little overdramatic, though she knew he appreciated her passion—he certainly reassured her of it whenever she had her doubts.

But she hadn’t seen him since she’d watched him come in, caught up in the book she was reading to an enraptured group of seven-year-olds.

His overcoat was hung beside hers behind her desk so she was certain he was still in the building somewhere and she was more than a little concerned about what her often taciturn love might be up to, surrounded by so many of the people that he’d spent, oh, several centuries terrorizing.

Everyone in town, even the children, knew well enough to avoid the quiet Mr. Gold, who owned everything and could easily turn you out of your house or get you fired or both, if you annoyed him. And that was saying nothing about the rumored quick and liberal use of his cane.

Of course, with magic and memory back in town people were even more wary of the Dark One, with all his power and his tricks and deals.

She sighed. His image was definitely her next project, after the library was up to par. Although she hadn’t told him that, she suspected he knew it was coming.

In the meantime he was loose in her library with almost all the children of Storybrooke ready to be terrorized, and no few of their parents innocently wandering around as well.

She trusted him not to do anything too problematic; he knew how important having a true, public library was to her, but he did have a slightly…‘off’ sense of humor sometimes. It was one of the traits that had always appealed to her, his ability to startle her into laughter at the most inappropriate things and the most inopportune times.

She turned a corner, still quietly hunting her husband, and had to bite her lip to keep from bursting into laughter as she found him.

He was sitting at a table, his legs folded up awkwardly in a chair that was meant for the youngest of the library’s patrons. He wore a yellow paper crown and a pink feather boa over his expensive black suit and he mugged and gesticulated as wildly as ever he had as the master of the Dark Castle, while he read a story she recognized as _Never Invite a Crocodile to Tea_ to seven little girls in glittery tiaras and sticker-covered pink and purple capes. In front of each girl—and in front of Rumpel—was a little pink teacup and a small plate with one or two raspberry cookies.

He paused doing the voice of a grand matron in the story to take a sip from his cup and the girls all quickly scrambled to follow suit, popping out their little pinkies just as he did. A few of the little ones, none older than five, certainly, and at least two looking not a day over three or so, bounced in their seats at the pause, clearly eager for the story to continue.

He caught her eye as he set his cup back down, and smirked a small, self-deprecating smile, but consummate showman that he was, he didn’t let her distract him from his performance.

She had to look away for a moment, eyes slightly damp. Of course she’d forgotten because she so rarely saw him with little ones—because they were all terrified of him—but for all his bluster her Rumpel adored children.

~~~

He finished that story and read two more while she lingered there, waiting for him, one about a dragon who fell in love with a princess and saved her from a fearsome knight, and another about a lost monster that was separated from its family and had to find its way home. Belle had moved closer while he read, the better to listen and watch.

When it was time for the girls to go, their tea party having been discovered by more than a few parents who’d come to hover and watch with wide eyes and fidgeting while the Dark One read picture books to their daughters, they all complained and fussed until he promised that he would ‘be about the library’ in the future and might be willing to read more stories for well behaved little princesses as long as Ms. Belle didn’t mind.

As nervous parents shuffled their children off, Belle put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, leaning down to kiss him.

“You make a charming crocodile,” she told him with a smirk, smoothing the pink boa over his fancy suit jacket.

“He’s not a crocodile,” one of the straggling little girls announced sternly. “He’s a prince!” She pulled her hand free from her startled mother so she could come back the few paces to give him a kiss on the cheek before she turned and ran off, grabbing her mother’s hand again and dragging the woman away, already beginning to chatter about the cupcakes that had been set out by the library entrance.

For a moment Rumpel gaped.

And Belle giggled, running her hand fondly through his hair under the paper crown.

“Definitely a prince,” she agreed.


End file.
